


and baby when you sleep, do you dream of me?

by theinsanelycooltheatrekid



Series: do you know / how in love with you / i am? [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:53:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinsanelycooltheatrekid/pseuds/theinsanelycooltheatrekid
Summary: You can’t stand it; he’s too far away. You don’t know what you're doing when you stand up and slide under his covers but you know that it’s right.
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Jared Kleinman
Series: do you know / how in love with you / i am? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979611
Comments: 14
Kudos: 58





	and baby when you sleep, do you dream of me?

It’s just one of those nights; you don’t even know why he hangs out with you any more. After Connor, the emails, Zoe, all of the lies, he should’ve run away by now. 

You thought he was going to, that day, harsh words met with harsher replies, “Fuck you! Asshole!” echoing in your head for hours after he left. 

You don’t know why it was so easy to come to him as soon as you’d confessed; broken words and lies laid out bare for the world to see; the world you’d been living in. 

Jared had watched you tiredly as you sobbed on the sofa; he’d brought you a glass of water and patted your back and when you told him the truth about the letter you swore you saw his face crumple for a second. You couldn’t be sure. You’d forgotten how to read him a long time ago. 

You think maybe it’s too late to get him back, after everything you’ve done. Maybe you didn’t deserve it. 

But then he’s walking over to you, clearing his throat and jabbing a controller in your direction as he loads up Mario Kart. You catch yourself smiling in his direction and make yourself stop but you spare him a glance and he’s smiling too. 

It’s been like this for a few weeks now. He asked you the first time. You’d wondered if maybe he was just joking. 

Now you’re playing, face screwed up in concentration, trying not to giggle as Jared mutters under his breath “only the real shit can do Rainbow Road.” You swerve off the dizzying track and swear, loud, as the stupid bee tugs you back on. Jared mutters something again; “his name is Lakitu and he’s not a fucking bee” and you remind yourself to learn how to keep your mouth closed. That sure would have been helpful a month ago. 

You pause the game, and Jared turns to you, somewhat annoyed. You pull out your phone and concede defeat as Wikipedia reveals that Lakitu is, in fact, a koopa; Jared shouts playfully when you unpause, catching him off guard. 

He still wins the race, he whoops louder than you thought he was going to and you flinch, just a little; the sound is reminiscent of his harsh laughter and you don’t know if you can deal with that tonight. His gaze softens momentarily until he catches you looking and he turns away, saying you should probably get to bed. You nod gratefully and make your way to the bathroom. 

Your heart clenches painfully when you realise you have to go back and ask for clothes. It was a last moment thing, staying over, and so you brought nothing with you in your haste to get here. You hate inconveniencing Jared; you know you’ve done that enough already. 

Footsteps interrupt your thoughts and you straighten your face out from how it had slipped into a grimace. Jared shoves a soft pile wordlessly into your chest before stalking off again; you mumble a half-hearted “thanks” at his retreating form and tug the clothes on. At least you didn’t have to ask. 

The material is soft and weirdly familiar against your skin. You wrap your arms around yourself and make your way to his bedroom, lights already off. You can feel your way around the Kleinman’s house; it’s second nature to you. Your feet bump into the air mattress on the floor and you tumble onto it; Jared snorts, although surely he can’t see you. Blood rushes to your cheeks and you remind yourself that he isn’t the asshole he used to be and the laugh means nothing.

You mumble a “goodnight” and he parrots it back, and you bite back a grin, daring yourself to feel hopeful. It’s been another good night; quiet and easy, no pressures from him. 

You don’t know why that’s what you expect every time you go over; like you’re just waiting for him to yell, again, or leave; or worse, laugh. Jared’s laugh isn’t pretty; it has a sort of metallic quality to it, an unusual, abrasive sound that was familiar in the same ways it was painful. 

He tosses and turns; you can hear it from the floor. Eventually, he’s still, letting out a long, loud sigh, before all is quiet. 

You’re alone now. 

It’s easier when he’s awake and besides you, even when he doesn’t say much. It’s in the nudges of elbows when he notices you getting quiet; the way he clears his throat and shoots you a concerned little half-smile, eyebrows raised. It’s the way he doesn’t ask if you’re okay, but just sits with you, leaning into you slightly to remind you that he’s  _ there  _ and that, that is what matters to you the most. 

You can’t stand it; he’s too far away. You don’t know what you're doing when you stand up and slide under his covers but you know that it’s  _ right.  _

He’s meant to be asleep; so when the lump under the covers stirs, shifting around, you freeze, afraid. He mumbles groggily, something that sounds like your name, tilted up in a question. He repeats himself, slower, sleepy; “Evan? S’that you?” 

You breathe out a “yes”, fully prepared to exit the warm cocoon of his duvet and retreat to the air mattress. He finally turns to you, eyebrows drawn together in a slight frown, eyes half-lidded. His hands slide across the sheets, fumbling around until one catches over your side. He hums contentedly and tugs on your waist slightly; you shuffle close to him, not daring to breathe just yet. 

Your heart beats abnormally fast as you’re pulled against his warm body. It’s the last straw when he pushes his nose against the top of your head, burying his face in your hair; butterflies flare up in your abdomen and you will them down, attempting to steady your breathing. 

You’ve gotten glimpses of soft Jared over these past weeks, sure; in the lemon and ginger tea he brought you wordlessly when your throat was raw from crying; in the knock of his knee against yours when you  _ finally  _ beat him at Mario Kart; in the clothes that he lent you each time you forgot yours. 

This, though, is all that and more. He’s still quiet; the both of you are. Talking’s not your thing and you’ve already established that with each other. So when he slips a hand into your hair, sighing, you know he’s saying something important. 

You don’t know why it makes your face heat up when you think about it too much; Jared’s body pressed against yours, his hand in your hair, wearing his clothes. The longer you think the more painful it gets. 

So you stop thinking. You fall asleep like that. 

It’s strange, and new, and kind of scary, but it’s warm, it’s quiet, and he’s there. 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments mean the world <3!!


End file.
